Waiting For Love
by Supreme Distraction
Summary: It's difficult being in love with a monarch-what with the constant meetings, appointments, and public appearances. When you love someone, you make the time and, as they say: patience is a virtue. Elsanna drabbles. AR.
1. Dreamer

Oh boy. It's been a while since I've visited this fandom.

I'm feeling fluffy and I love this song. You know what time it is. This drabble style fic will detail the lives of the Arendelle monarchs over the course of two weeks, alternating POV between Anna and Else. And let's pretend the events of the movie didn't happen while we're at it. Ready?

 **Disclaimer:** Frozen belongs to Disney and Waiting For Love to Aviici. I own neither. Thanks go to **Espada Harribel** for giving me her feedback and criticism.

* * *

 _'Where there's a will, there's a way' kind of beautiful_

 _And every night has its day, so magical_

 _And if there's love in this life there's no obstacle that can't be defeated_

 _For every tyrant a tear for the vulnerable_

 _In every lost soul the bones of the miracle_

 _For every dreamer a dream—_

 _We're unstoppable with something to believe in_

— **Dreamer—**

The most difficult part of being a monarch isn't what you'd expect.

It's not the endless appointments with advisors, other monarchs, troubled civilians, diplomats, party planners, festival committees, ballroom dance instructors, private tutors, etiquette trainers, hair dressers, tailors—ugh.

It's not forcing a smile on my face even when I feel far removed from happy.

It's not being stuck in princess limbo, unable to receive a proper coronation until my 25th birthday because there's already a queen in place.

It's not being treated like a porcelain doll: too pretty to keep hidden away, but too fragile to allow to make my own decisions regarding /my/ life.

It's not the ever-present pressure of knowing people expect more from me and running myself ragged in an attempt to /be/ more. Prim, pretty, endlessly pleasant, selfless, intelligent, patient as a saint, just shy of perfect, but still approachable, fair, but not too lenient-the list goes on.

It's not even the stress dreams that sometimes keep me up at night and the mile-long days that follow.

For me, at least, the most difficult part of co-ruling Arendelle is getting some alone time with my partner: the aforementioned Queen of Arendelle.

My beloved sister.

My Elsa.

Phew... Admitting it, even to myself, is still nerve-wracking. We "came out" to each other almost three years ago and our relationship is still the kingdom's best kept secret—one notch above Elsa's icy powers. She still struggles with them at times, but has been more forthcoming about that struggle-about her burden-with me. I never really agreed with the whole "conceal, don't feel" thing. Some days, she even seems ready to share her secret with the world, though she never quite goes through with it.

Baby steps. One thing at a time.

I hate to be selfish and I try to keep my bratty, little sister need to be doted upon in check, but I crave her affections. I've spent entire days just trying to catch her eye and coax forward that slow, sexy, brilliant smile she gives me when it's just the two of us. I've gone to ridiculous lengths—waited in the pouring rain, ridden halfway across the kingdom to procure her favourite sweets—just to extend what little time we have together. I love Elsa and unfortunately that's a sentiment shared by the hundreds of people within the kingdom and by droves of suitors from other kingdoms.

Suitors who I can't help but loathe because the advisors keep insisting that Elsa "isn't getting any younger and should seriously think about settling down." I know the polite interest Elsa shows is part of the monarch facade, but I can't control the ugly stirrings of jealousy every time she gets courted. I do, too, but I'm young enough that I can get away with dismissing their unwanted attentions. For now.

My blonde, gorgeous sister isn't so lucky and the very real pressure to procure an heir sometimes makes her retreat inside herself, into that contemplative silence that even I can't break her out of. The way her eyebrows draw together and her lips curve downwards at the edges makes me want to kiss her until her smile is back, but in mixed company I have to settle for taking her hand in mine and reminding her with gentle pressure that I'm here for her.

I always will be.

Time is a monarch's most precious resource. While the royal coffers may be full to the brim with all that glitters, money can't buy a quiet evening curled up with a book or a stroll through a sunny field. Leisure activities that the average person takes for granted become guilty pleasures when your life follows an airtight schedule. I imagine it's difficult to even find time to breathe, but Elsa does everything with such grace that it's easy to forget that the weight of the world is on her shoulders.

I do what I can to lessen that burden, but I'm not quite as good at managing royal affairs as she is. The royal retainers are always quick to remind me of that with pitying looks and hushed whispers. Just wait until my coronation. Elsa may not notice—or maybe that's just her big heart finding the best in people—but they're a rotten bunch. Mean-spirited and greedy, they want my sister to rule with an iron fist rather than a gentle hand. They're constantly pushing her, trying to get her to see their way, and she's constantly pushing back, albeit gently, and insisting that she appreciates their input, but /this/ is how things are going to be done.

Have I mentioned I love that woman?

The monarch facade is a mask we wear to maintain the peace, protect personal interests, and sometimes just hold it all together. In the face of brash young rulers threatening to crush Arendelle under foot, farmers bearing bad news right near the end of the harvest season, apothecaries reporting in on new, widespread sicknesses, or the demands of those who don't understand that their queen is doing her best I've never once seen her frown. She maintains a calm that's cooler than ice, her fair features arranged into a regal, impassive mask that can cow even the angriest of aggressors.

It's an expression I don't ever want to be on the receiving end of because that's the face of someone who conceals rather than feels. Before our parents died, she used to sequester herself in her room, refusing anyone entry, and it had killed me. Younger me didn't only miss having a playmate, she also worried for the ray of sunshine that retreated behind the clouds.

I can't go on without the warmth that Elsa brings into my life. I refuse to. While she may have come out of her shell, she's still prone to retreat into it in the face of adversity. I know it's a coping mechanism, but it isn't healthy. And when she shuts me out, I don't know what to do with myself. Like a loyal hound, I trail behind her, making myself readily available for even the smallest acknowledgement. Anything to ease the painful pressure beneath my breast.

When we were younger, Elsa and I had all the time in the world. We were inseparable, our every waking hour spent coming up with ways to surround ourselves with a fantasy of our own making. I don't know about her, but /my/ fantasies always included us living happily ever after... like the princes and princesses from bedtime stories.

I would give anything to go back to that. The bond we share as sisters has bloomed into something deeper and more meaningful, but with that depth came a careful distance. If anyone found out about us, Elsa is convinced that there would be an uproar. Who had ever heard of two women, much less sisters, loving each other in the way a man loves a woman?

I want what's best for my sister—at any personal cost. That's why I'll be here, waiting at a careful distance, until she finds the time and we can be alone.

We can be ourselves.


	2. Monday

For the sake of even distribution between chapters, we've got a double dose of Anna here. Enjoy~

 _Monday left me broken…_

— **Monday—**

Adrian is tall, dark-haired, and handsome. He's the successful young lord of a sprawling kingdom to the east. His smooth smile has charmed the waitstaff, a trio of tittering girls who keep flitting about and seeing if he or Elsa needs something.

They've barely glanced in my direction, though to be fair I've barely touched my food or drink. This dinner was an advisor's suggestion, naturally, and Elsa had agreed on the condition that I could accompany them.

Adrian is amused by my presence. When introductions were made, he had tousled my hair and when I had ducked his hand, he snickered that I was "precious."

Jerk. I'm 20 years old now and he has no right to treat me like a child.

I was gearing up to give him a piece of my mind when Elsa had given me a meaningful look. So instead, I sat back in my chair and assumed a bored expression, my hand under my chin.

Adrian is kind and attentive and his endless tales of adventure make him seem like some sort of world saviour. He keeps pushing his hair out of his eyes as he leans in, closing the gap between himself and Elsa bit by bit as the night presses on.

He's also currently sitting in _my_ seat and making eyes at _my_ sister, who is smiling demurely down at gloved hands as he lavishes compliments on to her. When he reaches out to place his hand over hers, she flinches and I have to hide my smirk behind my wine glass. Poor damn fool.

As the night progresses, her guard begins to lower and despite myself, my chest constricts. Her laughter is like the peal of bells, a truly beautiful and carefree sound, and I hate that he's the one who has earned the smile that curves full lips.

Does she... Actually like him?

The next half hour drags its feet and every slow second just deepens my annoyance. I can't watch this, but there's no way I'm leaving the two of them alone.

Adrian reaches out again as they share a laugh. When his fingertips brush an ash blonde strand that has escaped Elsa's typical updo away from brilliant blue eyes, she doesn't recoil.

I swear my eye twitches.

At the end of dinner, Elsa walks Adrian to the foyer where she bids him goodnight. I feel slightly guilty for listening in, but I always get a thrill when I hear her turn down her foolish suitors. Like clockwork, they stop at the foot of the sweeping stairs and Elsa says, "Thank you for coming. I had a lovely time."

Adrian is facing the stairs, his back to the door. The butler is waiting, a hand resting on the door, poised to open it.

He keeps making small talk when this should be the part where she denies him a second date and sends him on his way. Does he ever stop talking?

Just leave already.

Elsa takes a step backwards, onto the bottom most stair and Adrian finally catches the hint.

"Thank you for having me, Highness. You're an incredible hostess."

"It was my pleasure." Before she can make another step to continue her retreat, Adrian catches her hand again.

I can't see her face, but I can imagine her carefully maintained calm. "Adrian—"

"Please... Would it be too much trouble to ask to see you again?"

She's flustered, I can tell by the way she stammers and her shoulders tense. "I..."

Adrian holds his breath and I do, too. She holds so much power in dainty gloved hands. Does she even realize that?

Finally, Elsa says quietly, "I don't think that's a good idea."

Rather than beg and plead like I've seen other boys do, Adrian shocks us both by pulling Elsa forward and placing a single, chaste kiss on her lips.

"If ever you have a change of heart, let me know. I will be waiting."

He releases her, bows, and his gaze meets mine before he turns to make his exit. The smile he gives me is smug. I ball my hands into fists, meeting his gaze with as much disdain as I can manage. He knows I don't approve and that makes him smile all the wider.

The boom of the castle doors shutting chases at my heels as I flee up to my room, my heart in my throat.

...

A knock on my door pulls me halfway out of sleep and I manage a groggy, "Yes?"

"Is everything okay, Anna?" My pulse spikes. Elsa is standing on the other side of the door, likely wearing a silk nightgown and a concerned expression. "You haven't said much all night."

"Oh, now you notice?" I can't help the bitterness that colours my tone any more than I can help feeling awful about it almost immediately afterwards.

The door opens to allow a sliver of light from the hallway to leak across the foot of my bed. Elsa stands in the doorway and I draw my blanket up to my chin. Even her silhouette is gorgeous.

"Is something the matter?" She doesn't come any closer and I can tell she's waffling between joining me and doing the proper thing and returning to her room.

In my ugly, jealous state of mind, I make the decision for her. "I'm fine. Goodnight."

"Very well... Goodnight."

'I love you' lingers, unspoken, in the tense silence that stretches between us. She leaves without another word and I feel like throwing up.

My heart hurts.


	3. Tuesday

Enter Elsa.

 _Tuesday I was through with hoping..._

— **Tuesday—**

Anna has been acting strangely since the night before. It's not like her to be so quiet or to avoid my questions, yet she's doing both of those things while maintaining a distance that's doesn't feel as though it's purely physical.

I don't like it, but I don't have enough time to sit her down and get to the bottom of things. Today's appointment is a lesson with our private tutor, an austere woman who takes her job very seriously. She's been with our family for years, so she has no issue with chastising either of us like naughty children.

That doesn't stop me from asking, quietly, "Are you sure everything is okay?"

Dark green eyes flick impassively in my direction, but she doesn't say anything.

I'm not sure what I've done to upset or offend her, but it's in my nature to try and make things right. No, it's more than that. Anna means the world to me and if she's upset, my own mood is negatively affected.

"Girls," the tutor interrupts sharply. "I hope you're discussing the founding of Arendelle."

I glance surreptitiously at my sister as we go back to the dense tomes before us.

...

After our lessons, a porter tells me my horse has been prepared in the stables. I'd nearly forgotten I have an appointment for a dress fitting. The advisors like to throw a ball at least once a season to maintain morale, which means I'll need to look as close to perfect as one can manage.

I invite Anna to go with me, thinking perhaps she'd like to spend some time together. When she doesn't accept immediately, I'm quite frankly floored-to the point where I send the porter away, assuring him I'd be right down, so that it's just her and me in the study.

"Anna..." She doesn't flinch away when I cup her cheek, but she doesn't exactly lean into the contact, either. When I guide her gaze to mine, I'm unable to make sense of the maelstrom emotions I find there. "Speak to me, darling."

She huffs a little and the way her lower lip protrudes makes me want to kiss her, but I think better of it. The walls have ears and, in some cases, eyes; our staff is full of gossips.

"Have I upset you? It was not my intention."

I rest both hands on her shoulders, squeezing comfortingly, and she shrugs.

"Anna..."

"You shouldn't keep them waiting." She's correct, we both know it, but that doesn't prevent me from lingering.

"I'll be back soon, okay? Why don't you draw us a bath?"

When she looks at me, there's a faint spark of happiness in her gaze and I find it a bit easier to breathe.

* * *

I should know better than to assume a quick errand will actually be just that: quick.

The sun has set by the time I was making my way back to the castle, two guards on armored destriers flanking me. They make a horrible ruckus wherever we go, but they insist that I need to be protected. All they've ever done, to be honest, is make it impossible for me to go anywhere without being spotted and approached by my subjects.

It doesn't bother me, most of the time. My subjects are wonderful, friendly people who seem to genuinely respect and look up to me. On days when time is of the essence, however, being stopped by every individual on the street isn't exactly conductive to a quick outing.

 _/ "Highness, you've done an excellent job. We're so proud of you."_

 _"Thank you."_

 _"You're so beautiful, Queen Elsa!"_

 _"You're too kind."_

 _"My Lady, would you be able to advise me on this?_

 _"Actually, I really must be going..."_

 _By the time I manage to disengage from my well-wishers, an hour has already passed. I'm very late for my fitting and the tailor nearly drops a basket of materials when she sees me._

 _"I-Is everything okay, My Lady? You're never late."_

 _"I apologize. I hope you'll still be able to see me."_

 _"Of course!"_

 _I stand for another twenty minutes, turning this way and that way as the woman takes my measurements. Then, she begins to alter the petticoats and arrange the wiring for the ruffled outer skirt._

 _My guards stand on either side of the door, their expressions bored. When I tell them to go into the square and fetch a snack, they smile gratefully before disappearing._

 _"Oh no..."_

 _I turn my attention back to the young woman: she's searching through bolts of fabric and seems even more flustered than before._

 _"Is something the matter?"_

 _"As it appears, I don't have the royal purple you requested, Your Highness. I can order some from Melanie's Materials, and she'll have it here in under an hour._

 _... That establishment is on the direct opposite side of town. A glance outside reveals that the sun is already making its way towards the horizon._

 _"Do you mind waiting, Highness?"_

 _Yes. Very much so. Unfortunately, I already know the tailor is booked up for the next week with other ladies who intend to attend my ball. This is my one chance to get my dress finished on time._

 _So I wait. /_

I dismount my horse and make a beeline for Anna's room, my apology already prepared. My little sister hates cancelled plans and, though I paid a boy in town to go to the castle to bear the bad news, there was still damage control to be done.

My footsteps echo down the hallway, eerily loud in the quiet. It's incredible how many people live on the castle grounds, and yet, so much of the vast structure doesn't see use. Anna has an entire wing to herself and when she isn't filling it with her warmth and laughter, the place is like a graveyard.

Sure enough, Anna's door is closed. When I knock, a sense of déjà vu settles over me; however, this time there's no response.

"Anna?" I hesitate before knocking again. It's far too early for her to have turned in already, but she's upset. "Darling, please..."

This time, the door opens and I'm face-to-face with a frowning Anna.

"What is it?"

"I'm sorry... My errand took much longer than I intended."

"I noticed." She crosses her arms.

"Give me a chance to make it up to you." I smile as sweetly as I can manage and I know she's struggling not to return the expression because of the way the corners of her mouth twitch. "We'll spend time together tomorrow. I promise."

She worries her bottom lip with her teeth briefly before nodding. "Okay. Goodnight, Elsa."

She moves to close the door—

"Anna?" She pauses, and I sweep her into a hug. "Sweet dreams, my love."

She doesn't quite hug back, but she leans into me and it's a start.


	4. Wednesday

My apologies to the reviewers I might have missed. I've been a bit preoccupied of late. Thank you to everyone who shares their thoughts with me :3

Wednesday my empty arms were open...

 **—Wednesday—**

I can't stay mad at Elsa. Try as I might, my sulking always ends prematurely when she gives me that smile.

The next morning, Elsa meets me outside my door and offers her arm. I latch onto her, smiling despite myself as we make our way downstairs. Just two sisters, enjoying each other's company. Never mind the fact that the gentle scent of the perfume she wears makes me want to nuzzle and nip the pale column of her throat.

The table is already set for two when we enter the dining room and I take my seat next to Elsa. When the servant disappears into the kitchen to procure our breakfasts, I shift so that I can hook my leg over my sister's. A little thrill goes through me when she removes one of her gloves. Her fingers are cool to the touch despite her careful control as she strokes the skin that my dress hitches up to reveal; the silken feel of her skin against mine makes my breath hitch. I want nothing more than for her hand to stray higher, but I quickly have to break the contact once the servant returns with plates of pancakes topped with colourful seasonal fruits and a drizzle of syrup.

I'm fidgety all through the rest of breakfast. The food is great, per usual, but my mind is on the lingering heat from her touch.

Near the end of the meal a guard approaches the queen and whispers something into her ear, that makes her frown minutely. She assures him she'll be there as soon as she is able then, she turns her attention back to me, clasping my hand in hers beneath the table.

I'm the center of her attention in this moment and I'm almost giddy.

When she rises to go and deal with matters, she kisses my temple and promises she'll see me later.

"I love you," I say, quietly.

Her smile as she hurries out of the room is radiant.

...

Wednesdays are reserved for archery, sword practice, and horseback riding. Sometimes, I feel guilty about enjoying the warm, pleasant weather while Elsa is cooped up inside, but I know she doesn't get stir crazy the way I do.

At the archery range, the instructor nods her approval as I draw back the bowstring, exhale slowly, and lodge an arrow directly in the center of the bullseye. She remarks that I've shown a lot of improvement, but also reminds me that I need to get a pair of protective gloves.

I refuse to, if only because Elsa has worn hers for as long as I can remember. I know how stifling that feels.

On the practice field not too far from the range, the grizzled old battle veteran corrects my stance with taps of his cane. Once he deems my posture perfect, he has me practice a flurry of strikes on a training dummy.

The sword is heavy in my hands and it isn't long before sweat dots my brow. Noticing this, he commands me to take a break and goes, grumbling, into the storage shed. When he comes back, he hands me a different sword-this one lighter-and I'm floored by how this one feels like an extension of my arm rather than just some sharp object.

He pats me on the back after I've finished practice—a rare instance of praise.

In the stables, the riding instructor frowns when I wave the stablehand away and take care of my own horse. After brushing the gelding's dark coat, picking his hooves, and saddling and bridling him, I'm ready to set out on the trail that leads into the verdant hills.

The instructor reminds me for the umpteenth time to stay out of Troll territory and I wave my acknowledgement as I kick my horse into a trot. Being engaged like this, using my muscles and working off the energy that builds as a result of being castle-bound, is a godsend.

The faster the day passes, the sooner I'll be able to see Elsa.

...

'Later' turns out to be much later than I would have liked, but I don't hold it against her. She's trying her best.

Besides, under the cover of night there's much less chance of being interrupted.

I've drawn the bath extra hot and steam curls around the bathroom, warming even the cold stone underfoot. I dip my feet in up to the calf as I perch gingerly on the lip of the tub and I nearly fall over as Elsa enters the room, her bathrobe slipping off of bare shoulders. She locks the door behind her, her gaze meeting mine as she lets the cloth fall to the floor.

Just like that, it's a struggle to breathe.

Elsa steps into the tub and the temperature shift that results from her powers makes the water perfect. I slip in after her, settling between her legs, and she rests her chin on my shoulder, her arms going around my waist.

Perfect.

We talk idly about our days, the warmth of the water undoing the tenseness in our muscles. Elsa washes my hair, working orange strands into a lather with a firm touch that makes my eyelashes flutter ecstatically. When I swivel to return the favour, she smiles and kisses the tip of my nose.

After we're both clean, we drain and refill the tub. Elsa goes quiet for so long, I assume she's dozed off in her warm, comfortable state. Then, a cool hand traces purposeful circles on my lower stomach and I shudder.

"Elsa...?"

Her lips brush against the shell of my ear and I bite my lip to keep a pleased sound from escaping.

As that talented hand dips lower, I part my thighs encouragingly, my head falling back so she can kiss me.

The bath water goes cold long before we actually get out.


	5. Thursday

_Thursday waiting for love_

 _Waiting for love_

 **—T** **hursday** **—**

My day begins at daybreak.

The ball committee is debating, as committees will. The itinerary consists of a list of over two dozen topics, only three or four of which seem vital to the actual event. The rest is a collection of nit-picks from middle-aged women who want nothing more than a chance to escape their daily routines.

Still, I'm required to sit at the head of the table and act as mediator. Whether or not I'm actively engaged in the conversation, I have to at least seem as though I'm paying attention.

My gaze wanders to the bay windows opposite the table. It's such a nice day, it's a shame to waste it... I catch sight of Anna entering the courtyard, a book under her arm, and suddenly focusing becomes an impossible task.

I admire the way the sun flushes fair features and highlights the blonde strands running through orange locks with a quiet sigh. She arranges herself on one of the benches by the fountains and it's then that I notice the book in her hands is a school book. It appears she's getting a head start on her work-good girl.

"Queen Elsa?"

"Mm?"

Everyone is looking at me, their gazes concerned and expectant.

"You sighed... Do you disagree with the theme?"

I blink. "No, no. That sounds lovely."

Appeased, they return to their debate.

When I glance back outside, Anna is worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. I want very much to kiss away the furrow in her brow. After some time, the expression gives away to an eye roll and a shake of her head and I know she's figured out whatever had stumped her.

I didn't doubt her for even a moment. My Anna is as brilliant as she is beautiful.

"Queen Elsa..?"

This time, the ring of faces is confused. If the woman's tone is anything to go by, this isn't the first time my name has been called.

I clear my throat, refusing to let how flustered I am show. "I move that we take a brief recess."

Protest ripples through the room. Time is short, I'm reminded. The ball is in just two days.

Even the queen can be overruled by the majority vote and I resign myself to half-listening and stealing wistful glances at Anna.

...

I don't begrudge my sister the measure of freedom her 'princess' title allows. In fact, I'm glad that I'm the one who sits through tedious meetings and endless formalities while Anna is allowed to be, well Anna-an indomitable source of positivity; a kind and gentle soul; my rock.

This afternoon, I have an audience with the queen of the neighboring kingdom of Vesuvia.

A monarch doesn't simply visit another monarch on horseback; she must arrive in style in the royal carriage and must have, in her company: knights, ladies in waiting, servants, and a herald. I've even known some visitors to bring their own cooks if they had particular dietary requirements.

A good portion of a queen's duty deals with maintaining appearances.

My carriage is loaded and a second for my accompanying staff is soon to follow. The horses shake their heads and champ at the bit, eager to stretch their legs.

When Anna sees me, she flashes that smile that she gives me and only me and adoration renders me mute for a moment.

"Hey." There are people present. She clasps her hands demurely in front of her, though green eyes roam.

"Hey, yourself." The lame, delayed response makes her grin and it takes all of my will power not to gawk. Her dimples are impossibly cute. "I'm on my way to Vesuvia. Would you care to accompany me?"

I know diplomacy bores her, but her support would mean the world to me. Her lips part, though it's not her voice that says: "Princess, you presence is needed in the throne room."

'What?' Anna's surprised expression mirrors my own.

"You have a visitor. Prince Helvec comes bearing gifts for Your Highness."

I frown, but quickly school my expression into something more neutral as Anna looks to me almost guiltily.

"I... Suppose I am needed here."

I nod, unable to trust my voice not to reflect the hot tightness in my chest.

She leans in, hugging me far too briefly, then gathers the hem of her dress and follows the guard back into the castle. It's silly, but I want to cry as I watch her swiftly retreating back.

...

I find myself once again unable to focus on the task at hand because of Anna. Or, rather, because of thoughts of my beloved sister and the young man who has come to call on her.

The Princess of Arendelle has her fair share of suitors, but she has somehow managed to scare each and every one of them away. Every one except for Helvec, it seems. I know she misbehaves on purpose and I know that's unbefitting behavior for someone of her rank, but part of me is glad she's headstrong and hell-bent on avoiding men.

If it's wrong of me to selfishly want Anna all to myself, so be it.

... I wonder what they're doing right now? He shares some common ground with my sister, so she isn't as quick to dismiss him.

 _/ A blond boy laughs and jostles Anna as they come up the path leading up to the castle._

 _I cross my arms, smiling coolly at her companion. "Good evening. Anna, who's this?"_

 _Anna, who's face is flushed and hair tousled. She's in high spirits and all because of this boy, this-_

 _"Prince Helvec from Lundford, Your Highness. It's a pleasure and an honour to make your acquaintance." The boy_ _quickly lowers himself to one knee, but his prostration does nothing to quell my ire. /_

I lower my fork and lift my napkin to mouth to mask the frown I can't quite prevent. Dinner is resplendent, but I'm suddenly not hungry.

...

When I return to the castle that night, I don't knock before entering Anna's room. Some silly part of me breathes a sigh of relief when I see that she's alone. I know her. I know she would never... but then fear is irrational.

I'm almost afraid she can hear my racing heart as I push the door closed behind me. Each slow step across the cold stone floor is weighted with my doubt.

I can't lose her. Not to Helvec—not to anyone. It's selfish of me to keep her all to myself when I'm not physically capable of being there for her. Try as I might, what if the stolen moments aren't enough? A prince would have time for her. He could make her so happy...

She wakes up almost immediately when I slip into bed with her, wordlessly rearranging herself to give me room. When I kiss her, my fear and doubt making the contact more desperate than affectionate, she wraps her arms around me.

"I love you," I whisper, trembling like a leaf.

She doesn't question me, just offers comfort. "I love you."


End file.
